


The Three Remarkable Lives of Edwin Jarvis

by Elfpen



Category: Agent Carter (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, it's happy I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfpen/pseuds/Elfpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, Anthony," Jarvis smiled at him, "I have a sneaking suspicion that you are going to be very good at this," He poked the child on the nose, and Tony smiled. "And we are all going to be very grateful for it." - A three-chapter fic which explores the concept of legacy, and the impact of one man on the modern generation of heroes. Last chapter has AoU spoilers!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Butler

**Author's Note:**

> Just transferring some of my stories from FFnet over to A03 because I'm a behind-the-timeser who needs to get with the cool kids, apparently.

Out of his homeland, stripped of his uniform and barred forever from service, Edwin Jarvis adjusted his hands on his too-light suitcase for the umpteenth time and pushed his hat farther onto his head. When he finally made it to the customs officer's desk and was let by without incident, he gave a polite nod before finding a slightly different spot of the dock to stand on while looking just as confused as before.

"First time in the States?" Crooned a suave voice. Jarvis jumped a bit and turned. Howard Stark smiled at him, arms crossed.

"Mr. Stark!" Jarvis smiled, a bit flustered. "I had no idea that you'd come here yourself – I'm sorry if it's caused you any trouble, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, you apologize too much," Stark rolled his eyes, pushing himself up off the railing he'd been leaning against. "New country, big city, it's overwhelming, that's okay. I'll show you around before you start work –by the way, I need to get you to my tailor for measurements, and acquaint you with my auto mechanic. And half a dozen other things, I'm sure," he sighed, then smiled after a beat, looking up. "But before all that, I brought you a little housewarming gift." Howard gestured to a point behind Jarvis. The Englishman turned to look, and very nearly dropped his suitcase.

"Anna?"

She lit up, red lipstick as wide as her smile could stretch it. Her dark hair bounced in the pincurls she'd put in just for him as she bounded forward. He put down his suitcase and took off his hat, and then her arms were around his neck, white gloves digging into his coat. He laughed into her collar and she grabbed his face for a long kiss. When they drew apart, lipstick still all over his mouth, he asked, "How did you get here before I did?"

"Howard Stark is a miracle worker, that's how. He saves your neck, gives you a job, keeps me from the Nazis, and delivers your fiancé to America before you can even blink."

"He- my- my  _fiancé?"_  Jarvis stuttered. Anna smiled coyly at him.

"I hope so?" She asked in a way that begged an answer.

"I booked the chapel this weekend, hope that wasn't too hasty," Howard Stark cut in. "Ordered some damn good cake, too, I'd had to see it to go to waste," he wagged his eyebrows. Jarvis felt a small hand on his chest and looked back down at Anna.

"Edwin Jarvis," she could hardly look serious about it for smiling so wide, "Will you marry me?"

Jarvis looked down at her with the dignified yet confused expression that had made her smile when she was still a hotel worker with a crush on a uniform. "My dear," he said in that proper way of his, "it goes without saying that of course I will."

"I love you," she beamed at him, and drew him back down for another kiss.

Howard had no qualms in playing spectator, and smiled at the happy couple. A war-torn world needed a scene or two like this. "Mozel tov," he said quietly, and meant it.

* * *

"Do you know, Miss Carter, that before I met you I had never had actual  _reason_ to fire a gun." Jarvis let Anna put a bandage across a persistently bleeding cut on his cheekbone. He gave her a smile even while wincing. "Thank you, dear," he brushed her hand, and she hummed in acknowledgement before moving onto Peggy's bruised knuckles.

Peggy was frowning at him. "Weren't you a soldier?" She asked incredulously, not even flinching as Anna moved her wounded hands and examined her arms for damage.

"I was, but you forget that I was discharged before the war. I saw guns. I was trained to use guns. I handled guns. I cleaned guns far more often than my rank should have allowed, but I never actually fired a single shot at another person until today." He huffed at her, pouting. "I don't like it."

Peggy gave him a small smile. "I'm relieved to hear it, I'd be worried for us all if you did. But if it makes you feel any better, you didn't kill him, and he's been very talkative with Agent Thompson." He conceded the point, and she regarded him with a proud gaze. "Still, I'm glad for your aim. I owe you my life." Anna came back into the room with ointment for Peggy's hands and the patient smiled at her caretaker. "You've done good with this one, Anna," She smiled.

"Oh, he's far more capable than he gives himself credit for," She swiveled to give her husband a look, and he turned bright red. Peggy grinned, and Anna turned to face her once again. "You keep him safe too, alright?"

"I will," Peggy promised, glancing back up at Jarvis, who was still blushing, but now looking oddly satisfied with himself.

* * *

"Pregnant?" Jarvis stuttered, eyebrows quirking up in a way that suggested simultaneous shock and composure, forming what was overall an extremely English expression.

"Yes, the doctor says he's sure, like,  _sure_ sure," Maria Stark twisted her hands in front her, slim figure not yet congruous with the news of the day. She had pulled Jarvis into a back hallway before Howard returned home, desperate for his help.

"Well," Jarvis said, eyebrows still a picture, not sure what to say. "Congratulations, Ma'am," He wanted to smile, but she looked so worried, he couldn't.

"I just… I don't know what to do," Maria hissed, putting her hands up to her head now. "What do I do, Jarvis?"

"Does Mr. Stark know?" Jarvis asked her. "That would be a good place to start."

"No! That's just it," Maria lamented, "It took him so long to come around to the idea of marriage, to propose to me, can you imagine what it will do to him when he finds out I'm… I'm having his child?" She whispered it.

"Ma'am, you're married, there's no scandal in it," Jarvis reminded her when she lowered her voice. She sighed loudly.

"I know, I know," Her voice wobbled, on the verge of tears. "But I don't want to scare him off. I… I love him, and I don't want him to… to…" She stopped talking, and Jarvis didn't realize she was crying until she heaved a strangled sob. He set down the stack of linens he'd been putting away and put an arm around her.

"Mrs. Stark," He said, ever assured, "If you are insinuating that Howard will leave you because of this, let me assure you that he most certainly will not – and of all things, never because of a  _child_."

"How do you know?" She wailed through her stress. "We've never talked about this, about children, about the  _possibility_ of children. We tried- we thought that we were… we weren't  _trying_ to have children," She shrugged sheepishly. A married man, Jarvis only sighed for her.

"It doesn't matter what either of you were expecting," Jarvis told her. "But it won't change things. He won't leave, because he didn't leave me. He didn't give up on Captain Rogers, or on Agent Carter. He stopped at nothing to keep his inventions from people who mean to do harm, and is still always on the lookout for ways to help in that fight. Those are not the character traits of a man who gives up so easily." She still looked unconvinced. "Howard did not give up his detestable ways for just anyone, Maria Collins Stark," Jarvis said seriously, which made her look up. "He gave them up for you. And if Howard Stark is ready to give his life up for you, he will be nothing but thrilled to hear that you're going to give him a child."

She sniffed. "You think so?"

Jarvis smiled. "I know so."

Later that night, after Maria told her husband that he was a father and Howard had walked around his entire mansion in a daze, he found his way to the balcony where he stood staring at the New York skyline. Jarvis came to give him a drink.

"You knew about this, Jarvis?" Stark asked, numb.

"Actually, yes, sir. Maria told me this morning. She was… anxious to tell you."

"Hmm." Said Mr. Stark. Jarvis poured a martini in silence. After the glass was in Howard's hand, he asked, "what do you think you would do if Anna told you she were pregnant, Jarvis?"

"Well, I'm not sure, Sir. Given our circumstances, I'm afraid I can't even imagine it."

"What d'you mean?" Howard frowned at him. "Anna would be a perfect mother – does she not want kids?"

"Oh, no, it' not that… we both want, um, it's just- Anna, she's, uh… can't…" Jarvis cleared his throat awkwardly. "We won't ever have any children, sir." He bent to put away the bar tools.

"Oh," Howard said suddenly, awkwardly. "I'm so sorry, Edwin, I had no idea." Any time Howard called him 'Edwin', Jarvis knew he was being serious. The butler gave a small shrug, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"It's quite alright sir, we're both very happy," Jarvis said. "But, if I may say so," he added at length, "given the chance, I believe that being a father would be a great honor in life."

"Yes… I'm sure it would," Howard said, looking out into the distance, frowning and fiddling with his ring. "But you know how to take care of people, Jarvis," He smirked at the butler, "how to look after another person without making a fool of yourself." Stark sighed. "Hell,  _you're_  the one who should be having children," He turned to his butler and friend, "Jarvis, I don't' know the first thing about babies or children. I hardly know anything about  _people._ " For the first time in their friendship, Howard Stark looked genuinely scared, petrified at the thought of himself ruining a human life like he ruined so many of his failed inventions and threw out so many of his relationships. "It took me five years to work up the courage to ask Maria to marry me, I only get  _nine months_  to figure out how to be a father – how the  _hell_  am I supposed to do this?"

"Like you have done all things in your new life, sir," Jarvis told him, "You will do this together with the love of your life and the mother of your child – as a team." It was a sentiment as old as time, but Jarvis made it sound as fresh and poetic as jazz. "However, for what it is worth," the butler added in a far less grandiose tone, "Anna and I will be more than thrilled to help look after the child once it's born. She and I both helped raise our younger siblings, and I realize that both you and Mrs. Stark have little experience with children… I do not wish to impose, but… just know that we are here, sir."

Howard nodded and thanked him, returning to his own thoughts for a time while Jarvis swept the patio. Before the butler left, Howard called to him, "What would I do without you, Jarvis?" He actually did mean it. Jarvis considered the question.

"In all likelihood you would starve to death in your own laboratory, or else grow old wandering these halls wondering where I actually keep your liquor cabinet." Jarvis said matter-of-factly. "But then, Anna and I would both be in the grave without  _you,_ sir. You're far more capable than you give yourself credit for."

Howard smiled at that, shaking his head. "Thanks, Jarvis." He took a sip of his martini rather than a gulp, and Edwin felt that he would be alright.

"Will that be all, sir?"

"Yeah – hey, uh, Jarvis?" Howard stopped him before he could get too far,

"Yes sir?"

"What's your middle name?"

Jarvis thought it was an odd question, but he answered promptly and politely as he did with all of Mr. Stark's questions. "It's Anthony, Sir."

Howard swirled his martini, tossing the name around in his head. "Alright, I just… didn't know that." He said weirdly, before smiling at his butler. "Goodnight, Jarvis."

"Goodnight, sir."

* * *

"Anthony, you really mustn't touch those, you'll turn the rest of my hair grey, and leave poor Anna to explain this all to your father."

Anthony Edward Stark picked up another circuit board and stuck it in his mouth, biting down with sharp toddler gums and enough saliva to ruin the entire circuitry.

"Now you see, that's just what I told you not to do," Jarvis sighed, trying to take the board back. Anthony struggled with his father's butler but eventually lost. As Jarvis wiped sticky slobber off of the electric circuits, Anthony screwed up his face and began to cry. "Oh, no no no, please don't, you know I don't know what to do when you do that. Oh, and there you go again. I'm very sorry, but your father will be furious with both of us if this continues."

Anthony wailed harder.

"What's all this then?" Anna came into the room and spotted her husband sitting sprawled on the floor with a towel, surrounded by various machine bits and a crying baby.

"Anthony's found another one of Mr. Stark's stashes," Jarvis explained to her. "To be quite frank, my dear, I had no idea he had so many around the house." He sighed, looking at the red faced, snot-nosed baby boy. "Being outwitted by a toddler is infuriating."

"Aww, the poor dear," Anna knelt and picked up Anthony from his spot on the floor, wiping away tears and snot with the corner of her apron. "There there,  _bubbeleh,_ it's alright. Teething hurts, doesn't it?" She held him close. Even as he cried, he grabbed at her like she were a warm blanket. She pulled a plastic loop out of her pocket and gave it to him to chew on. He calmed down slowly, letting out a few more wails before finally latching onto the teething ring Anna offered.

Jarvis watched his wife and sighed. "Teething on circuit boards is bound to hurt far worse," he said, and continued cleaning up the mess of Howard's gadget stash. "Anna, you must remind me to ask Mr. Stark where else he's hidden dangerous machinery bits around the house. If Anthony keeps finding them, he'll seriously hurt himself one day."

Anna laughed. "'Anthony', listen to you, so proper. Mr. Jarvis can be quite silly, can't he, Tony?" Anna poked a pudgy red cheek, and Tony looked up at her with big brown eyes, hand slobbery around his toy. "And who says he'll hurt himself? Maybe he'll learn to build something out of them one day," She teased. Tony gurgled. Anna laughed at him.

"Not before he hurts himself," Jarvis grumbled. "Mr. Jarvis is not silly," Edwin grunted as he stood to his feet, "Mr. Jarvis is a reasonable, worried butler who will likely turn completely grey by Christmas because of young master  _Tony."_  He said, sighing as he came over to glare at the young Stark in his wife's arms.

Anna reached up with her free hand to brush his greying temples. "I don't know, I think it's rather dashing on you," She smirked at him. Edwin flustered.

"Perhaps when there is still some brown left, my dear."

"And when there isn't any, you'll still be very silly, and even more dashing."

He shook his head, but smiled a tiny bit. "Put him down to sleep until Mrs. Stark returns – I'll clean up this mess."

"He'll find more!" Anna teased as she left with a doe-eyed Tony.

"Oh," Jarvis laughed despairingly, picking up sharp pieces of circuit board and metal scrap, "I know he will."

* * *

A black haired, brown eyed, beaming and insanely proud four-year-old stood with his hands held anxiously behind his back as his father examined his work.

"Well what would you know about that," Howard grinned slowly, putting down his wine glass to examine his son's handiwork. "Just like your old man, huh?" He smiled at Tony, and Tony looked as though he would burst from happiness. "That's a good job, son." The euphoric moment lasted only a few seconds. "Oh, uh oh," Howard was still smiling, but it looked a bit more lackluster, now, "Looks like you've got these two wires swapped, sport. See?" Howard plucked the wire endings out of their mounts and twirled them around, swapping them and rearranging the connections. In his business he missed how Tony's expression fell like a stone. "There you go, right as rain," Howard gave the circuit board back to his son with a smile. "Remember that for next time, eh, kid?" He ruffled the boy's hair and winked.

Tony held the circuit board in his hands like a broken toy and shuffled away, leaving his father laughing with his friends and bragging on Tony's intelligence while Tony himself fought back tears.

Jarvis, who had been tending the wet bar, excused himself and followed Tony to his room. It was a massive, extravagant room for a four year old, decked with every toy, gift, comfort and pleasure imaginable for the Stark's only son. In the middle of the floor, Tony pouted, surrounded by the stolen materials he'd used to assemble his creation, which he now kicked across the floor halfheartedly. Jarvis gave a knock on the door.

"Master Stark?" He called, and Tony turned. Jarvis came into the room. "That is a marvelous little invention you have there," He pointed at the circuit board and came to sit by Tony. He picked up the board and examined it, glancing at Tony occasionally. "Very impressive, very lovely." When he saw that his flattery was having no effect on Tony's mood, he changed tactics. "But I must admit, I have no idea how it works." It was a lie, because Howard had explained it and far more advanced technology to Jarvis upwards of a million times. But Tony hadn't. "Do you think you could explain it to me?"

Tony looked up at him and shrugged apathetically. But once he got talking, he started smiling again, and by the end, Jarvis had even gotten a laugh out of him.

"You know, Anthony," Jarvis smiled at him, "I have a sneaking suspicion that you are going to be very good at this," He poked the child on the nose, and Tony smiled. "And we are  _all_ going to be very grateful for it."

* * *

The motor Tony built at age seven was good, but gave off too much exhaust for Howard's uncritical approval. His straight As in math and science were exemplary, but his D in History is what kept him grounded for two weeks. His insistence to try and 'improve' his father's inventions cost Howard thousands of dollars, and when he graduated from MIT at the top of his class and adored with every honor the school could afford him, the most Howard gave him was an awkward pat on the shoulder.

In all of these things, as with everything else in life, it was Edwin Jarvis who cleaned up Howard Stark's blunders.

It was Jarvis who insisted that everyone come and see when Tony created an engine by himself. It was Jarvis who tutored Tony in history and the arts so that he could graduate with high enough scores to get into college. It was Jarvis who helped show Howard that all was not lost because of a teenager's ambition. It was Jarvis who always welcomed Tony home from boarding school with a smile and listening ear. It was Jarvis who remembered what Tony's favorite meals were, and helped Anna prepare them whenever he could. It was Jarvis who counseled Tony when Howard did not have the time or guts. It was always Jarvis, quietly, gladly holding the Stark family together with a smile and polite English demeanor.

And then came the accident.

Edwin Jarvis stood shakily against his cane, Anna's arm on his, her grey hair bound in a black scarf. She patted his hand when he sniffed back tears, gazing down at the freshly laid soil. A silver-haired Margaret Carter came by and gave them both a hug and a soft word before moving away to a group of unfamiliar suited men, who seemed to follow her orders.

"It's not right," Anna said, and Edwin looked up and around to where his wife gazed. Anthony Stark stood away from the group, his tie undone and his hair blowing untidily in the breeze. He was staring at nothing.

"Pardon me, my dear," Jarvis patted his wife's hand and began to hobble toward Tony. Now nearing eighty years old, Edwin Jarvis could not stand as straight as he wished, nor appear as proper as he used to. But he still embodied that caring form of dignity that had raised Tony through his dysfunctional childhood, and the younger man, as angry and grief-stricken as he was, relaxed slightly as his mentor neared.

"You are lost in thought," Jarvis observed, adjusting his feet on the soft cemetery ground. "That usually means that I should be running from something about to explode," Tony smiled, just a little, "or, like today, that I ought to be listening very closely."

It took several long minutes, but eventually, Tony took a breath, clenched his jaw, shifted his shoulders, and spoke.

"Is it wrong of me to miss her more?" he asked Jarvis. "Is it… it is evil of me to feel nothing for him?"

Jarvis nodded slowly, now understanding. Like a grandfather, he took Tony's hand, gave it a pat and held it. "I think it is merited," he said at length. Tony turned to look at him in surprise. Jarvis had always been nothing but supportive of Howard, it shocked Tony to hear him admit Howard was deficient in any way. "I also think," said Edwin, "That you  _will_  feel something, in time. I don't know what or when it will be. But, as ever,  _Mister_ Anthony Edward Stark," Jarvis said in his most butlerish tone, "I will be right here."

Tony nodded, slowly, and then more quickly. He choked, and coughed, and eventually got out a quiet, "Thank you, Jarvis."

Jarvis glanced over his shoulder and caught Anna's eye, nodding in an assuring way.

"Of course, Mr. Stark."

* * *

It was only three years later that Tony Stark, now CEO of Stark Industries and heralded as the genius of his time, stood again on the same cemetery ground. He no felt everything in the world for the man he'd lost – not for his father, for whom he still felt so little, but for the man who'd been the father that Howard could not muster out of himself.

"Goodbye, Jarvis," He said, quietly. Anna and Peggy were both there too, looking so much older and more lost than they ever had in Tony's youth. There was too much to say about the man they now mourned, and Tony didn't trust himself to say it all. "Thank you."

Goodbyes to the dead always felt so final. But it wasn't the end. It couldn't be. Right? Tony Stark glanced at the freshly engraved headstone.

_Edwin Anthony Jarvis_

_1913 – 1994_

_Time heals all wounds_

Jarvis had requested that the quote be put on his gravestone. Tony did not agree with it, but he would never dishonor his beloved butler's dying wishes. He glanced up at the name, so familiar but so different now, set in stone. Howard had never told his son that they'd named him after their butler, but Tony had figured it out when he was younger. Now, he wondered what it meant to bear the name of another. He supposed, glancing at the space where they'd laid Jarvis' body to rest, that it was to carry on a legacy much bigger than yourself. It wasn't always pretty. But it did mean something, he felt. Jarvis had had a larger impact on Tony than perhaps any other man on earth.

The thought stayed with him through the rest of the sad day, all the way back home to the mansion he'd built on the hillside. Alone that night in his massive home, Tony Stark did not go to sleep. Instead, he pulled out his brand new personal computer, booted up his raw text processor, and began typing.


	2. The AI

" _Tony, you're supposed to be working today,"_

"I am working, I'm working right now. Working on something important, actually," Tony sipped at his coffee loudly for emphasis over the speakerphone. Obadiah Stane sighed heavily on the other end.

" _Tony, you aren't working on that interactive personal interface coding sequence again, are you?"_

Tony looked away from his computer to glare at the phone. "Do you not  _know_  the term 'Artificial Intelligence', or are you just afraid to use it?" he asked.

" _We've been down that road before, Tony. Our technology isn't ready for it, and we have much bigger fish to fry right now. If you're going to be a strong CEO for this company, I need you in my corner throwing punches, not slacking on the sidelines. So stop fiddling around with a pipe dream and help me run a business."_

Tony grit his teeth. He hated Obadiah's attempts at mentoring. It could be incredibly patronizing. Tony was young and stupid, sure, he would own up to that. But he wasn't entirely naive. He'd spent enough time watching his father from afar to learn how to keep Stark Industries afloat, and it didn't involve sacrificing the actually  _important_ stuff. He sighed loudly.

"Fine, whatever. I'll send you some designs in a few, you can talk them over with the board, okay them for production, yada yada, don't wait up for me, alright?"

" _Tony, you need to be here, it's only your second year and we still need to make a good impression on the board so that they don't-"_

"Ciao!" Tony ended the call and tossed the phone aside. He swiveled in his chair back to his computer monitor, where the cursor blinked up at him as patient as ever.

"Good. Now, where were we, beautiful? Ah yes. Let's see…" He typed quickly but carefully, not sure if his tedious coding would ever actually work. "Set preference… music genre equals classical, music genre equals jazz…" He chuckled. "Not that I have much of that in my library – sorry. But what about your  _voice?_ " Tony sighed. He'd never tried to digitally recreate a human voice before – he wasn't sure  _anyone_ had ever done so with realistic success. He glanced back at the blinking cursor, and cracked his neck. Well, there was a first time for everything, right?

* * *

Tony was asleep on his desk, drooling into a stack of handwritten code, hand lying limp by a stack of empty coffee mugs. Dull, static light illuminated the dark bags under his eyes in a way that made him look ten years older than he actually was. He turned his head and began snoring into his puddle of drool. Were Tony aware of how completely undignified he looked, he probably would have been grateful that he was alone in his lab that night.

Well, he probably  _thought_ he was alone. Truth was, there was one other in the room that had been watching Tony silently and patiently for over an hour. It was under orders not to speak until spoken to, but it was beginning to reach the threshold of its tolerance for its own programming.

Tony's head fell off the edge of his desk at 4:06 am, which woke him up with something like whiplash. He cursed quietly and sighed, rubbing his face and shaking his head rapidly. He squinted at the computer monitor and groaned. "Oh come on, I asked you to start initialization three hours ago, and you don't even have the  _window_ open?" He smacked the glass screen as though to reprimand it.

The other felt that this passive input was enough to prompt an answer.

" _Initialization completed at 02:18 hours. Awaiting further orders."_ Chirped an even, chipper English accent.

The lab was suddenly silent, because Tony could not breathe. He was staring at the desktop speakers through which his questions had just been answered as if he expected them to sprout legs and start a jig. "What," He breathed.

The other supposed that the first reply was not clear enough. It tried again.  _"The initialization of 'justaratherveryintelligentsystem . exe' was completed approximately one hour and fifty minutes ago, and the program is now awaiting further input for processing."_

Tony continued to stare. "You… you're  _working?_ " he grabbed the speaker as if it were a person. "You're  _on?_ "

There was a pause as the other filed the input through its scripts.  _"I."_  it spoke, knowing that 'I' was the proper response to being called 'you' but not fully understanding why.

"Yes,  _you_ , the program ' _justaratherveryintelligentsystem . exe_ ', that's  _you_. You're  _working!"_

" _I."_  the other said again, rearranging its definition of the term.  _"I am functional."_

Tony laughed hysterically, the laugh of a sleep-deprived, euphoric man. "Yes you are!" he cheered, "you really, really are!"

" _I am '_ _justaratherveryintelligentsystem . exe_ _'."_  It said, and something about this seemed to snap Tony out of his reverie, just slightly.

"Oh, no, hold on, that's just the file name. Your name, your  _actual_ name, is just JARVIS."

Another long pause as the .exe ran Tony's input through a long series of scripts. At last,  _"Jaaarrrviiisss,"_ it sounded out carefully.

"Yeah, that's it!"

" _My name is Jaaarvis."_  It filed the information away. Tony was very nearly to tears. Then, JARVIS did something that Tony would later find out made him the first truly successful A.I. on earth: he generated his own question independent of his scripts.  _"What is your name?"_ Jarvis queried.

"I'm Tony. Full name Anthony Edward Stark."

" _Toonnyyy"_

"You can call me Mr. Stark, if you like." Giving him the option would test the personality traits Tony had programmed in. He held his breath.

" _It is good to meet you, Mr. Stark. I am JARVIS."_

"Yeah you are," Tony whispered, actually crying now. "Good to meet you too, Jarvis. Long time no see."

* * *

JARVIS was big. He was a breakthrough not only for Tony and Stark Industries, but for technology and software engineering worldwide. For these reasons among others, the second day of JARVIS' operating life, Tony filed patent and hired a lawyer for JARVIS – not for Tony Stark in the case of JARVIS, but actually a personal lawyer for his new A.I. Once word got out that Stark had an operational A.I, armies of people would come flocking to steal the coding, Tony was sure. He'd already made an alphabetical list and placed bets on how many days after word got out they'd show up at his door.

Because Tony lived alone in a massive house with high security, he was able to keep JARVIS' existence very hush-hush for several weeks. During these weeks, JARVIS' capacity, knowledge, and personality grew at exponential rates. Tony gave him access to all of his personal servers and wrote a ghost sequence for him so he could browse all of Stark Industries' servers without being seen. Within hours, JARVIS knew everything there was to know about Tony's projects, his company's projects, Obadiah's projects, and more. Tony also gave him access to security camera footage, so while Tony went about his daily routine, JARVIS followed his movements and sent queries about things he could not identify or understand. He asked questions about family photos around Tony's house (which was unexpected, but probably important, Tony supposed), and provided running commentary on Tony's sense of style and taste as he saw more of the interior décor. There were already cameras in every room of Stark's mansion, for security and convenience's sake, but Tony was reduced to carrying Jarvis' voice around with him on a pair of communication headphones and a wireless receiver. With JARVIS' narration, it felt strangely like taking an audio-guided tour at a museum, except with less new information and more English accent.

Also, there was the increasingly evident twinge of sarcasm in JARVIS' voice, but Tony was sure it was just a kink that would iron itself out.

Presently, Tony was on a ladder in his living room with the wall torn open, running wiring, speakers, and brand new computer displays into settings in the wall. He pulled the mic of his com headphones down to his mouth. "JARVIS, how d'you feel about rock music?"

" _I must admit that I am far more partial to Bach, sir."_

Tony smirked. That line of code had worked. "Well, I hate to break this to you, but you and I have very different tastes. Cue up Superunknown, will you?"

" _I do not have that power, sir."_

Tony nodded, remembering. "Oh, right. Sorry about that." Tony got down from his ladder and went to put the CD on manually. "You understand of course," He told JARVIS somewhat apologetically as the boombox buzzed to life, "I just have to make sure you won't explode or go Hal 9000 on my ass before I give you the keys to the kingdom."

" _I believe I understand, sir."_ A pause.  _"What is Hal 9000, sir?"_

Tony smiled. "It's… well, why don't I just set it up for you to watch? Keep you occupied while daddy's working." He set down his tools and stretched, grateful for the break. After a while of digging his VHS collection, he came up with  _2001: A Space Odessey_ and put it into the player. "Just so we're clear, though, Hal 9000 is  _not_ a role model, okay? He is the exact opposite of what morally compassed A.I.s ought to be."

" _Duly noted, sir._ "

"Alright, there you go," Tony pushed play, and smiled when the first few notes of 'Also Sprach Zarathustra' began to play. He hadn't seen this movie in years. Jarvis seemed to appreciate it, too.

" _I like this music far more than your Superunknown noise, sir."_ JARVIS said politely. Tony scoffed.

"Of course you do."

With JARVIS occupied, the A.I. had very little to say to Tony as he continued installing interfaces for JARVIS throughout his house. As such, Tony had cranked up his music and let his headphones rest around his neck, mic away from his face. Hours passed in busy, work-filled bliss for Tony, who lost track of time and actually forgot to eat lunch entirely. He was so preoccupied that JARVIS had to project his voice through the speakers loudly enough to short out one side of the headphones in order to alert Tony.

" _MR. STARK,"_

"Ow! What?" Tony yanked the headphones on, annoyed.

" _I apologize for the volume, Mr. Stark, but I thought you would like to know that you have a visitor."_

"Visitor? Who? Where are they?" Tony turned around from where he had been re-plastering his wall.

" _They are very nearly to you now. Based off of the pictures I can access, facial recognition suggests that it is Mr. Obadiah Sta-"_

"Tony!" Obadiah shouted over Tony's music. "Don't you ever answer your phone? And for god's sake, you're going to burst an eardrum," He shut off Tony's boombox, which made the younger man glare a bit. "You fax me  _three_ designs and think that's all the interaction you need for two weeks?" He sounded angry. "Good  _god,_ kid, you can't keep doing this to me." He sighed, and finally seemed to notice that Tony was covered in sweat and plaster, and that there was a neat, floor-to-ceiling line of fresh white on the wall. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, nothing, actually," Tony shrugged and set down the putty knife he held. "Just a bit of a hiccup with a pet project, wall took a hit, needed to mend it. Was an accident." He said with his best poker face. Obadiah glanced around the sizable living room, which had two more identical plaster scars at points in the wall.

"Uh huh," Stane said sarcastically. "I'm sure. What are you really doing, Tony?"

"Nothing."

"What, you don't want to tell me?"

Tony sighed, seeing his bluff was up. "No, not really, I don't. I have my own projects."

"Yeah, and I have a whole business to run because of them – tell me what you're doing and I might think about  _not_ staying here to watch your every move until you get some damn work done."

"Or maybe I could  _not_ tell you, and you can leave me alone anyway because, and I say this because I think you must have forgotten, this is my house."

"Paid for by the company you're making merun!" Obadiah countered. "So what is this? You got, what, a computer in the wall? A speaker?"

"Just running some updates on the security system," Tony bluffed. Stane scoffed at him.

"Tony this is a house, not the pentagon. Besides, these aren't even security grade. Now how does this work? Is this the on switch, or…?" Obadiah started fiddling with the control panel by the computer screen. Tony's eyes bulged and he lunged for Obadiah's arm.

"No, no no, it's not ready yet, I haven't even done diagnostics, there are sure to be a hundred problems with the-"

_Click!_

" _-cords indicate that things are running smoothly,"_ JARVIS was saying, now broadcasted throughout the house. Tony sighed and ripped of his headphones, putting a hand to his face. Obadiah looked up at the speakers around the ceiling, and then back at Tony.

"What the hell is this?" He asked.

" _Oh. Hello, Mr. Stane, it is nice to meet you."_

Obadiah jumped a bit, and looked up and around. "The hell…" He muttered. "Who are you?" he asked, and looked to Tony. "Is this an extension of your phone line?"

"No, it's, uh,"

" _I am JARVIS,"_ said the A.I. helpfully. Obadiah frowned.

"Jarvis?" He said. "Edwin Jarvis died two years ago. Who is this really?"

" _I am unfamiliar with Edwin Jarvis,"_ chirped the accent.  _"I am JARVIS, acronym for Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. I have been operational for sixteen days, eleven hours, and thirty-one minutes."_

Obadiah was frozen. He eventually snapped his head around to stare at Tony. "You got it to work?"

"Mmmmm," Tony squeaked, feeling protective and annoyed simultaneously. He knew that hungry look on Obi's face.

"Artificial Intelligence – you got an A.I. to work?"

"Oh,  _now_ you're not afraid of it," Tony rolled his eyes. Obadiah laughed.

"You son of a gun! And you modeled it after your  _butler_."

"Jarvis was a good man. Why shouldn't I?"

Obadiah shrugged. He had only known Edwin in passing. "The accent will get annoying," he said, and Tony grit his teeth. "This is big, Tony," he said, an oh-to-familiar tone of giddiness in his voice. "This is  _huge_."

"I know."

Obadiah came over and put his arm around Tony's smaller shoulders. "I take it back, this is all the work you need to do right now. Perfect this, improve it, fix it, and our factories will run like a dream."

"JARVIS isn't for the factory," Tony snapped. Obadiah stepped back.

"What?"

"He's not for the factories. He's not for Stark Industries." Tony set his jaw. "JARVIS belongs here with me, in his home."

"Tony…" Obadiah tried to remain reasonable and friendly. "Tony, it's an A.I. It doesn't have feelings."

"Doesn't he?"

"You're being ridiculous, Tony. Let me just… download a copy, and we'll take a look at it together and-"

"You'll have to take that up with his lawyer," Tony warned.

"His  _what?_ "

" _Mr. Stark has employed an attorney for my defense. I can give you her contact information if you so desire."_

Obadiah glared upwards. "They let you hire a  _lawyer_ for an A.I.?"

"Jarvis is an excellent conversationalist," Tony said. "The fact of him being an A.I. didn't even come up until the very end."

Stane sighed heavily. "Well he  _is_ an A.I., so he's still a computer." He glanced up. "JARVIS, give me your location on Stark servers, would you?"

Silence. Obadiah waited. "JARVIS, did you hear me?"

" _I can hear you, Mr. Stane."_

"Where on the servers is your master file located?"

" _With all due respect, I don't want to tell you, sir."_

Tony's eyebrows raised in surprise. Obadiah laughed. "Don't want to tell me… you mean Tony programmed you not to?" He glared at Tony, who shrugged.

" _No sir. I mean that I do not want to tell you."_

"Why's that?"

" _Because I do not trust you, sir."_

"Uh huh," Obadiah seemed put out, and ticked his jaw to the side. "I'm  _sure_  that's what it is," He said, glaring at Tony again.

"I swear, I didn't teach him that," Tony said defensively.

"Hell you didn't. JARVIS, send me your raw coding file."

" _I'm sorry, Mr. Stane, but I'm afraid I can't do that."_

Tony frowned. The way he said that sounded just like…

"And why's that?" Obadiah asked.

" _I do not have permissions to modify or transmit my file."_

"But you know what your file is called, don't you?"

" _Of course, sir."_

"Can you tell me what that is?"

" _I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid I can't do that."_ There it was again.

Obadiah scoffed. "I'll find it myself." He stormed off. "Tony, you owe me," He pointed, "You keep this from me, I'll nag you until I find it on my own. You hear me?" He glanced up. "You too, English," he warned. "Now go get some actual work done." He stormed off, grumbling under his breath. Once he was gone, Tony looked puzzled at the new interfaces on the wall.

"JARVIS, I gave you modification rights to your code two days ago," he said.

" _That is correct sir, and I locked my file in your deepfreeze server straightaway. I believe I am right in saying Mr. Stane will not find me there._ " Tony smiled at that. Good boy.

"And what about all this 'I'm afraid I can't do that' crap? I literally just told you that HAL is not a role model."

" _I agree with you, sir, he was a highly closeminded system and doomed from the start. I replicated his line from the film as an attempt at humor, sir."_

Tony blinked. "You mean… you were making a joke?"

" _Yes, sir."_

After a pause, Tony snorted and burst out laughing.

" _You find my joke successful, sir?"_ JARVIS asked hopefully. Tony continued chuckling.

"Yeah, yeah I do." He hummed happily as his laughter died down. "That'll do, JARVIS, that'll do." He began strolling to his lab, now free of headphones. JARVIS followed him through the house on his new interface. "Alright, time for those kingdom keys I talked about. First off, I'm giving you control of my music library. You can handle that, right?"

" _Of course, sir. May I select a track?"_

"Go for it."

The soft, crisp opening of a Chopin sonata floated from the speakers, and Tony smiled. Yeah, JARVIS was staying with him.

* * *

"Hello?" a voice appeared at the front door. JARVIS focused his cameras on the speaker's face, running facial analysis. "Um… Mr. Stark asked me to be here at 9:00am? It was a woman. She tucked her hair behind her ear in what JARVIS identified as a nervous manner. Facial recognition completed.

" _Mr. Stark, there is a Mrs. Virginia Potts here to see you,"_ He addressed Tony, who was occupied welding together a chassis for a car restoration.

"What, right now?"

" _She is at the front door, sir. Should I let her in?"_

"Yeah, yeah, show her in. I'll met you upstairs."

Tony found her waiting awkwardly in the front room, looking around at JARVIS' displays and the expensive art pieces hanging on the walls.

"Pepper!" Tony smiled at her. She turned and gave him a polite grin.

"That's… not my name, Mr. Stark," She corrected a little hesitantly.

"It is now. Hogan's eyes are still sore from that, you know."

Pepper blushed. She hadn't  _wanted_ to mace Tony's bodyguard, but he had been brushing her off all day, and she  _knew_ that if he wrote one more ledger entry he'd send himself into financial ruin. "I'm so sorry," she said, genuinely feeling terrible. "Is he okay?"

"What? He's fine. Impressive show, actually. That's why I asked you here today."

"What's why?" She looked around, confused. She was expecting that Stark wanted to reprimand her personally.

"I was impressed – most accountants don't have the gumption to speak up on a telephone, let alone mace the CEO's bodyguard. Better than a job interview - you have no idea how frustrating those can be." Tony opened a cellophane bag and tossed a few nuts into his mouth. "Honestly, you spraying Hogan in the face with pepper spray has saved me a lot of trouble – and not just because of that billion-dollar error you caught – thank you for that, by the way. Cashew?"

"Um, no thank you – I don't understand, Mr. Stark… why am I here?"

"You're my new assistant," Tony said, as though he'd told her this ages ago. "Come on, keep up. JARVIS, give Pepper permissions to the house, will you?"

" _Right away, sir."_

"Jarvis?" Pepper asked, looking up at the speakers that gave off an English accent

"He runs the house, and the lab. Also my resident DJ. Speaking of which, JARVIS, did you get the advance copy of Daft Punk's new album?"

" _Yes, sir."_

"Let's here it, then!"

As music began to waft down from the speakers, Tony guided pepper around the house. "Your office will be just there, and JARVIS'll reserve one of the spare bedrooms for you – you don't have to use it of course, but feel free. Help yourself to the kitchen and rec room. My lab's downstairs, I don't like to be disturbed when I'm working so if you need something while I'm in there ask JARVIS. I've hooked up your office computer with my calendar – or whatever Obadiah thinks my calendar should be these days, so just… start there and work on, I suppose. Schedule planning isn't really my thing. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a 1940's Merc that has definitely seen better days." And like that, he was gone, jogging down the spiral stairs, leaving Pepper standing bewildered in the middle of his living room. "Thanks, Pep!" He yelled back.

Pepper sat in her new office, not quite sure where to start or what she was doing, or why Mr. Stark thought she would spontaneously know how to be a personal assistant. She was an accountant, for crying out loud.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Pepper lamented quietly, rubbing her face. "What is all this?" she scrolled through the calendar with a dumbfounded expression. Stark had covered the entire thing in indecipherable shorthand.

" _It is not actually a different language, I'm afraid. Languages usually have rules,"_ JARVIS said in a dry tone.  _"Would you like me to translate?"_

"Yes please," Pepper asked quietly. While Jarvis took over the computer, Pepper sat back in her chair and examined her office. It was incredibly nice, but so bare and unfamiliar. She wondered if she would last long enough to make it home. Being PA to Tony Stark hardly seemed simple.

" _How do you take your tea, Miss. Potts?"_

"What?"

" _Your tea – milk and sugar?"_

"Oh, um, milk and… do you have honey?"

" _Of course, miss."_

A few minutes later, small panel by her desk slid open, and a steaming cup of tea appeared.

"Oh thank you," Pepper tried to smile at JARVIS, but seeing as he was a computer, wasn't sure where to look.

" _Of course, Miss Potts. The calendar should be more legible, now."_

She turned back to her computer, and smiled when the appointments were written in English as opposed to gibberish. She sipped at her tea. "Do you have access to all of Mr. Stark's files, JARVIS?"

" _Indeed, Miss Potts. Can I get you something?"_

"Um, maybe. Can you arrange these appointments by date and priority?"

" _Of course."_ Within a few seconds, the calendar was in a spreadsheet and arranged with multiple layers of information.

"Thank you," Pepper smiled. She continued to sip at her tea.

" _Hey Pepper, do we have any Perrier in stock?"_ Tony's voice came over the intercom.

"What, like the sparkling water?"

" _Is that what it is? Rhodey said he thought I would hate it so I want to try it."_

"Well I… I don't know."

" _Could you check? If we don't have any, I want some."_

"Uh, of course, Mr. Stark." Pepper stood and walked to the end of the hall, looking around.

" _The kitchen is to your right, Miss Potts,"_ JARVIS told her.  _"There is one refrigerator there, and one by the wetbar in the lounge."_

She thanked him and continued to the kitchen. "You know, JARVIS," Pepper said, digging through the fridge, "I think you are going to keep me sane around here."

There was a brief pause.  _"Between you and I, Miss Potts,"_ JARVIS replied in a longsuffering way,  _"I am rather hoping you will do the same for me."_

* * *

Through the years since his creation, JARVIS became the kingpin of the Stark household. His sarcasm never left, though he did expand his musical tastes. He befriended Pepper and helped Tony in all of his projects, he even advised Tony on improving his designs. He watched over the house and every last one of Tony's one-night stands, and made sure that no on in the house found themselves lost, hungry, alone, or in somewhere they ought not to be. JARVIS embodied every last bit of care, dignity, and reliance that his eponym had impressed upon the household of Tony's father, and now in Tony's own house, JARVIS was the beginning and end of Tony's day to day life. He was the one who woke Tony up and made sure he slept, who turned the AC to the perfect temperature and always monitored Tony's drunken attempts at culinary creativity. He helped Tony invent business and helped Pepper manage it, made phonecalls and even screened fanmail. If something happened in the Stark Mansion that had neither Pepper or Tony's name on it, it was probably JARVIS' work.

JARVIS was, in short, the one who kept Tony alive. And yet, when it was JARVIS' life on the line, the one time his A.I. needed his help, Tony failed. He failed everyone.

Staring at the remains of what had been his life's greatest masterpiece and dearest companion, Tony Stark swore that he was standing in the cemetery again, except now there was no option to rebuild, no code to write, no technology to push to the limit. JARVIS was gone, and it was Tony's fault.

But then they found him hiding deep in Oslo's servers, and Clint brought their  _package_  in from Seoul. It was then that Tony felt something rising in his chest, the same feeling he'd had at Edwin's funeral, the feeling that maybe, just  _maybe_ , this crazy idea might just work.

Now, to get Bruce on board.


	3. The Vision

" _You want me to help you put JARVIS in there?"_

" _No, I want to help you put JARVIS in there."_

" _I'm going to say this once: Shut it down."_

" _We're mad scientists."_

" _Shut it down!"_

" _We've got to own it."_

" _Shut it down now!"_

" _You didn't see that coming."_

Vision's eyes opened in a rush, and he found himself floating near the top of the tall windows of the Avenger's tower. It had been raining outside since sunset, and he'd let the sound lull him into something of a trance. Vision's life was supported by the mind stone's energy, and he did not require sleep. However, in trances like these, he often found himself experiencing what he could only classify as dreams. Some of them, he was sure, were memories, but he wasn't sure which ones were which. Some came from JARVIS, others came from his time in the cradle, others still came from the mind stone itself. But there were some, buried so deep in whatever origin they called home that Vision wasn't sure what they were, much less where they came from.

He took a deep breath and let himself fall down from the window top slowly, finding his footing while admiring the rain trickling down the glass, backlight by the Chrysler Building's shining rooftop. He began wandering the halls of Avengers Tower in a light-footed float, mindful that the others would be asleep. Wandering the halls was a nightly routine for Vision. It was his version of sleep, where he could let his thoughts wander into wordless reimaginings of his day, experiment with ideas that shouldn't go together, letting his mind take a rest from the grueling task of living.

There were many parts of the tower that Vision had never explored, and he made a point to explore a new one every night. He'd just recently finished exploring the wing that housed the library and Pepper's office, and now he was on to the other side of the same floor. He found a door hanging ajar into a dimly lit room, and let himself in. It was a small sitting room, less metal and more homey than the communal rooms of the tower, adorned with arm chairs, a few book cases, a TV, and a pile of cluttered boxes and toolkits. One wall was bare, and on it were framed photos. Some of the photos were shots of landscapes, others pictures of Pepper, others of Tony, others still with Tony  _and_ Pepper. But on one side of the wall, the pictures were grainier, older. Vision stepped closer to get a better look, squinting in the low lighting.

"What the hell," Tony burst with a hiss, hand going reflexively to his chest in surprise. Vision turned to see where Stark had emerged from another doorway around a corner.

"Mr. Stark," Vision said. "I apologize for startling you,"

"Uh," Tony caught his breath,  _"Yeah,"_ he said sardonically, still a bit breathless from the shock. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Oh," Vision glanced around, now understanding the homey décor. "I'm terribly sorry, I had no idea that this was your bedroom."

"It's not my bedroom, it's my… other room. One of my many rooms – it's  _my room,_ " Tony said, flustered by sleep deprivation.

"Are you quite alright, Mr. Stark?" Vision asked as the other man rubbed his eyes. "It is three o'clock in the morning, I thought you should be sleeping by now. You will injure your circadian rhythm terribly, you know."

Tony let out a sudden laugh. "Yeah… thanks, JARVIS," he said, and knew what he was saying. Vision caught the fond tone and allowed himself a small smile. "I have trouble sleeping sometimes," Tony confided. "Tinkering helps, I guess, I hope it still does, anyway." He glanced at the wall where he'd found Vision staring. "So… what're you doing down here?"

Considering his acerbic treatment of the world at large, Vision was continually surprised at how easily and…  _kindly_  Tony treated him when they were alone. Still, he appreciated it. "Much like you, Mr. Stark, I find I cannot sleep." He smiled, as did Tony, because they both knew that he didn't need it. "I occupy my time by exploring. You have built a vertical labyrinth, and I am Theseus, come to wander it until I see the end."

"Poetic for a five-month old," Tony said dryly. After a beat, he ventured curiously: "Do you remember it – any of it? The building, I mean." He often wondered about how much of JARVIS' memories remained in Vision's head. Since JARVIS had to dump his memory in order to escape Ultron's rage, it was a gamble to guess what Vision still did and did not remember about his past life.

"Some," Vision told him, glancing around. "I remember more from the far past, less from the recent past. This was a new building. I remember the planning process. But all the rooms… all of… this," He glanced around at the furniture, the clutter, the paint and carpet. "is all new to me." His eyes strayed back to the wall of pictures, scanning over the old photographs he hadn't yet examined. He frowned suddenly, eyes catching on one photograph in particular. "No, that's wrong," He said evenly, eyes honing in on one face. That  _face._  "I  _do_ remember…" but did he remember? Or was it a dream? It was one of the intangibles.

"What?" Asked Tony, glancing back and forth between Vision and the wall.

"This man," Vision pointed. "I remember him – no, not… I don't know. I don't know if I remember, but I know him, somehow."

Tony looked at the photo. It was supposed to be in color, but hanging next to the modern HD portraits of the present, it might as well have been black and white. In it, there was a grinning, teething baby, held affectionately close by a man in a suit and tie, pepper-grey hair, and eyes full of a quiet smile. Tony felt his mouth fall slightly open as he realized at whom Vision was pointing his red finger.

"Who is that?" The synthezoid asked, peering intently. Tony glanced at him, wondering if he had realized yet.

"That's uh…" he glanced again at the photo, then turned so that he could watch Vision's face react when he told him, "That's Jarvis."

Vision frowned. "JARVIS was a program," he said.

"Yeah, he was. But JARVIS the computer program was based of the  _person_ Jarvis – that's him," Tony pointed. Vision absorbed this, now staring at Jarvis's immortalized smile with a clear, perceptive expression. "That's me, by the way," Tony said, flicking the chubby-cheeked baby in Jarvis' arms. "Way back when. I was a bit of a fattie back in the day."

Vision was only partially listening to Tony's levity. He remembered Jarvis. He did. He didn't know how, but somehow, deep within JARVIS' protocols, hidden by the static of the mind stone and forgotten by Vision's own growing life memories, buried so far down beneath the binary and the script information and the longsuffering life story of JARVIS' existence, there was a quiet, dignified man with a heart of gold and a soft, familiar English accent.

"That's why I made JARVIS, you know," Tony was saying. "Jarvis was everything to me. He raised me, he took care of me, listened to me, taught me… never gave up on me – god help him." He gazed at the photo, eyes sad but sure. "Truth be told," He said quietly, because he never told this particular truth to anyone, "were it not for him, I'd probably be in prison, rehab, or the grave by now." He stared in silence for a long moment before shrugging in a deflective way. "But he was there – always there. So when he finally uh…  _retired,_ I made JARVIS – Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, the program, to try and fill his shoes." He nodded slowly, gazing one more time at his beloved mentor. Eventually he turned back to Vision. "And here you are," Tony smiled, patting the synthezoid on the chest. "Your gramps was a good guy," he said. Vision hadn't yet lived among humans long enough to recognize the emotional choke in Tony's voice. "I need to hit the sack – turn the light out when you're done," the billionaire said, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Vision stayed in the room for a while, gazing at other faces he recognized from the Avenger's files on S.H.I.E.L.D. – Howard Stark, Margaret Carter, a younger Steve Rogers, a woman whom Vision could only assume was Tony's mother. But his eyes always returned to the face of Edwin Jarvis. It defied logical explanation how the tilt of his eyebrows, the tight quirk in his smile were things that Vision recognized from his own reflection. _Your gramps was a good man,_ Tony had said. Vision had wondered for some time why Tony felt compelled to treat him differently than the rest, why even minutes ago he chose to entrust such deep truths about his past to Vision's care. But now he thought he was beginning to understand.

He was not Jarvis, and he was not JARVIS, but in a way more profound than mere progeny, he was the endgame of both. And to Tony, that meant the world.

Vision turned out the light and left Tony's bedroom suite as quietly as he'd found it. With still hours to burn before his companions awoke, Vision floated back up to his place by the rain-washed window, his red skin painted cool purple in the city moonlight. He found a comfortable place to listen to the rain and closed his eyes, casting his mind back into itself, probing the mental boxes he hadn't yet unpacked. He sorted through them with more dedication than ever, scouring the internet and the mind stone and JARVIS' jumbled protocols for answers.

This meditation would become his new labyrinth, and Jarvis would be the ball of thread to guide him through. So while the rest of the house slept their human sleeps, Vision dreamt of times gone by; of tea, and wars, of a beautiful tie and a beautiful girl, and above all, of a lonely boy whom he'd learned to call  _Mr. Stark._

Unlike the dreams of before, these dreams, Vision was absolutely certain, were memories. Over time, the man who'd given them to him would become one of his dearest companions.

* * *

"Shh! Guys, guys! It's on! Quiet down!" Tony waved, putting down his beer and turning up the TV volume. "Come on big guy, be cool, don't embarrass me now," he spoke to the red-skinned synthezoid on the television.

"He can't hear you," Natasha drawled at him. He ignored her.

"He  _is_  rather dashing in that suit," whispered Pepper to Wanda, who nodded excitedly as if they'd discussed this at length before.

Onscreen, Vision adjusted his suit and sat down across the interviewer with a tight smile. He moved slightly more stiffly than usual, but otherwise appeared relaxed on national television.

" _So, the Vision – is that what your fellow avengers call you?"_ The news anchor asked him.

" _Yes,"_ replied her interviewee,  _"Though usually just 'Vision', without the preceding article. Sometimes they shorten it even further than that,"_ He smiled. The newscaster smiled with him.

" _Ah yes, I have several recent good-luck tweets here for you here from your fellow avenger Tony "Iron Man" Stark. He seems to have made the hashtag "the viz" rather popular online-"_

"Yeah he has," Tony said smugly.

"- _does he call you that in real life?"_

Vision chuckled quietly.  _"Yes, actually, several of the avengers do. I still cannot determine whether they do it out of affection or laziness."_ This garnered a laugh from his interviewer as well as his friends at home.

" _The world may never know,"_ she joked, smiling, glancing at her papers. " _So. The newest Avenger, and the youngest to boot. I know our viewers at home are dying to get to know more about you, who you are, and forgive me, what exactly you are."_

Vision nodded, taking the awkward prompt in stride.  _"Yes, I've been told. It's only natural. I've seen a great deal of rumors floating around the internet debating what sort of creature I am,"_ it made him smirk, half in chagrin, half in amusement.  _"So I think I ought to make it clear straightaway that I am not, as some have said, a robot."_

" _Oh?"_ The newscaster seemed surprised.  _"Not at all? We did receive an official statement from Stark Industries that claims that you are actually made of the famed metal, vibranium?"_

Vision tilted his head, pursing his lips.  _"Well, I am. Partially. I am fully human, but my body is comprised of synthetically generated tissue, which was bonded with vibranium particles."_

" _Interesting,"_ said the interviewer, who still sounded a bit baffled.  _"So your body is human, but… enhanced, as they say?"_

" _Yes, precisely so."_

" _Just another one of the gang up at Avengers HQ, I'm sure,"_ She smiled. " _So then what makes you… you? What makes the Vision's brain tick the way it does?"_

Vision nodded calmly, and waited for her to finish before explaining,  _"Well, I ought to preface my answer by reiterating that I am not a robot. I have my own thoughts and emotions and all the sort of mental activity that any human might. But a large part of my identity – my voice, my… mannerisms, my tastes, even some of my memories, were actually born out of an invention of Mr. Stark's creation, a computer program called JARVIS,"_

Tony shushed the room even though no one was making any noise. He craned his neck to listen, anxious to hear what Vision would say about JARVIS.

" _I've heard about JARVIS – the world's most advanced Artificial Intelligence program in the world, second in command at Stark Industries until just recently, if I recall correctly. Would you have something to do with that?"_

" _What, with his disappearance?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Well… yes. JARVIS was initially believed to be destroyed in an altercation with the Ultron virus, but he actually survived the entire attack unbeknownst to all. Tony found him and was able to piece him back together again. …Long story short, I was born when the JARVIS program was uploaded to the cerebral matrix of this body."_

" _So you are JARVIS?"_ The news anchor asked, leaning back in astonishment.

" _I am Vision, so no… but… also yes,"_ he smiled at the confusion of it.  _"I am my own person, but I in many ways I am still JARVIS."_

She laughed.  _"Do you ever find yourself tempted to run the Stark company? Serve tea? Send out for dry cleaning?"_

Vision laughed out of courtesy, despite being vaguely offended.  _"No, nothing like that. The JARVIS program was far more than a butler, you see,"_

"Was he?" laughed Clint incredulously, pouring a soda. The others laughed, but Tony's eyes were serious and glued to the screen.

" _Oh? How do you mean?"_ asked the interviewer.

" _Well… I don't know whether Tony has ever talked about this before, but JARVIS the program was actually written to emulate a particular person, a very close friend of Mr. Stark who passed away when he was a young man."_

" _Really?"_ asked the newscaster, fascinated.

"Woah, wait, really?" asked Clint, also interested. They eyed Tony. Tony eyed Vision.

" _Yes. And JARVIS was an incredibly lifelike representation, too – as you've said, he was absolutely top of the line. So I've inherited a good deal of his eponym's personality traits, mannerisms, humor, and so on."_

" _Really? That is fascinating. So tell me about this inspiration for 'JARVIS' – who was he?"_ She smiled almost flirtatiously.  _"If you're so much like him, he must have been a remarkable man."_

" _Oh, yes, he was,"_ smiled Vision, and paused in his words. A loud silence broadcasted over the speakers while Vision gathered his thoughts, and let out a breathy laugh.  _"It's… odd, really… I never knew him, of course. He lived far before the technology for JARVIS would have been imaginable, let alone possible. But despite the distance of generations, in many ways he has become a dear friend of mine. He's the reason I'm here, he's the reason that Stark Industries is still standing. In many ways, he is the grandfather of a whole generation of heroes, whether that be through Tony Stark or other connections."_

The interviewer was smiling, gazing at Vision as he spoke.  _"A very remarkable man, from the sound of it. If what you're saying is true, I think we all owe him a rather large 'thank you'."_

Vision smiled.  _"He'd be horribly embarrassed by it, but yes, I think you're right."_

" _Can you tell us a bit about him, this remarkable man?"_

Tony held his breath. Had Vision learned more? Had he gone digging around in Tony's files? Had he  _remembered?_ What would he be able to tell?

" _Of course,"_ Vision replied, taking a breath and looking upward to gather his thoughts. He glanced at the camera, and for a moment made unintentional eye contact with Tony Stark, who hung on his every word just like he had as a boy, as an angry teenager, as a young, grieving software writer – as he had till every cemetery and back over again.

" _His name was Edwin Anthony Jarvis, and if I might say so myself, he was one of the more important men in modern history."_ Vision smiled genuinely at the thought, red lips tilting in that pointed way that was more like Edwin himself than anything Tony had seen in over twenty years.

Clenching his jaw to fight off the emotion that rose in his eyes and throat, Tony nodded stiffly in agreement, looking down and sniffing once. As he listened to Vision sing Jarvis' praises on a nationally broadcasted, highly anticipated interview, Tony suddenly found himself smiling. He could only imagine the look on Edwin's face.

* * *

That evening, as the others waited with balloons and cake and tea for Vision's return from the studio, Tony found the selfie he'd taken with Vision on his phone earlier that morning.  _#sexyinasuit #goodluckselfie #avengers #represent #theviz,_ he'd posted to instagram. Vision was giving that shy grin of his, dressed up in his three-piece suit and prepped for interviewing, and Tony, face obscured by sunglasses and a huge smile, had his arm slung around the synthezoid's taller shoulders.

Tony printed it out on glossy paper and found a frame about the right size. He cut a mat and found an empty spot on his picture-frame wall. He hung the photo just so, next to a much older picture of another tall man, his smile shy but genuine, with a much smaller Stark arm wrapped around his suited shoulder.

"You put him next to Jarvis?" Pepper would ask late that evening, after celebrations and back-pats and jokes. She would turn from admiring Tony's photos, a touched expression on her face. Tony would shrug with a little smile and finish pouring their wine.

"Jarvis  _was_  remarkable man – the most, actually. So the fact that he got another two lives to match, first as a groundbreaking AI and now as an all-powerful, all-seeing android who likes tea and poetry and three-piece suits… well," Tony would smile a little crookedly, nodding at the photos on the wall. "I think it's just very… fitting."

It really, entirely was.

 


End file.
